Be aware that these extracts are not suitable for under 18 year olds.

SNATCHED

She was fairly certain that as long as she kept them content with her cooking, and Bhodan content in his bed, the men would allow her to stay until she had worked out a way of getting them all safely away from this place.

That night, Bhodan came for her again, but did not repeat the rough treatment of their last coupling. This time, he paused at the kitchen door and watched her combing her long hair, which she normally put up into a bun during the day. The anger and aggression previously in his face and demeanor had gone.

"Come. I want you."

He wondered why, after just a short time, this woman was getting inside his head. Throughout most of his life, he had been careful to allow no one to penetrate the armor-plated exterior he had so carefully constructed. There had been many women over the years, and Laryssa was just one more. And yet, there was something about her, an indefinable 'something' that drew him to her. He liked her calmness, her bearing, her soft voice and, yes, her body, which responded so well to his touch, and which set his own body alight in ways he found unfamiliar and strange.

Laryssa followed him and, despite herself, couldn't help a shiver of expectation pass through her body, the traitorous body that had been reawakened after its long slumber. Why was this man able to make her feel truly alive for the first time in her life? Even though she felt anger about being beaten the previous day, she was ashamed to admit to herself that there was a small part of her that had found the experience exciting.

"Take off your clothes."
She did as she was told, feeling a tremble in her belly, not of fear, but of anticipation. "Turn around."
She turned slowly, and Bhodan walked towards her and ran his hand down her back, and over the bottom he had so harshly beaten the day before. He was checking to see whether she still bore the marks. The bruising had faded somewhat, and there was no permanent scarring. He was relieved.

He pulled her backwards so her back rested against his chest, and ran his hands over her breasts before moving one hand slowly and gently down over her belly and over the lips of her sex.

Laryssa took a sharp breath as his fingers began to explore her moist, hidden parts, swirling around her clitoris until she longed for him to enter her. This man, with just a touch, was able to light a fire within her that she had never experienced before.

He bit her earlobe, and when he spoke, his voice was husky with desire. "Such a sweet body. No wonder the other women drove you away. They must have been afraid that their husbands would push you up against a tree to gain access to this hot little cunt whenever their backs were turned." 

THE ARTIST

Theo rose earlier than usual the next morning, having turned in early the night before. He regretted telling Lizzie not to come until mid-day now, anxious to make use of the bright morning sunshine, but could do nothing about it, as he had no knowledge of where the girl was living. He decided to take a walk instead.

It was pure chance that he picked Oak Lane to stroll down. It was a pretty walk, with magnificent, fully-grown oak trees that gave it its name, and a stream meandering in the dip by the side of the road amongst the trees. Just before he reached the farm entrance, he spotted movement below him. Creeping a little closer he realized it was Lizzie, having her morning wash in the stream, and he darted behind one of the trees to watch without being seen. It was foolish to hide, he told himself, when he could look at that wonderful body all day while he painted her. But there was something wonderfully erotic in spying in secret his little flame-haired model, performing her morning ablutions. She clearly thought herself completely hidden from prying eyes, for there was not a trace of inhibition in her movements.

Lizzie was standing ankle deep at the edge of the water, and had tucked her skirt up on either side of her body to avoid it getting wet. The blouse she wore on the top half of her body was unbuttoned halfway down her chest, and the soft roundness of the top of her breasts were peeking out through the gap. She had a rag in her hand and pushed it down the opened buttons and under her arms. The dampness from the rag caught against the front of the blouse and made the material stick to her breasts, causing her nipples to stand to attention. That was not the only thing that was standing to attention. In his trousers, Theo felt his cock expanding and straining against the rough material.

A bird chirped on one of the branches above Lizzie's head, and she raised her face to look up at it. Her pose, with her mass of auburn hair flowing backwards down her back, lips open and breasts pushing outwards against her blouse, made the artist in Theo want to paint her in such a pose, and made the man in Theo want to fuck that woman so badly he was afraid he might come in his trousers.

Having washed her upper body, Lizzie now concentrated on the lower half. Theo was unsure whether he could safely watch without giving himself away by a sigh or a groan. She bent forwards to rinse the rag in the water, away from where Theo was hidden, and he caught a glance of her perfect, shapely bottom peeking out from the bottom of her skirt. What a glorious arse, he thought to himself, and what he wouldn't give to bring the palm of his hand down on that soft, creamy flesh, leaving the imprint of his hand on her behind. 

THE RUSSIAN BRIDE

She was in the library one afternoon, bending over Viktor’s desk, avidly reading a book with illustrated erotic tales, and totally immersed in the work so that she did not hear Viktor come in the room and walk across the carpet towards her. The first she knew of his presence was a hand sliding up the back of her leg and under her dress, towards her bare bottom.

 

“So, my little English Miss is studying my erotic books, is she?”

 

Natasha jumped at the sound of his voice and began to stand, but his hand pressed her down again.

 

“Continue reading, my dear. In fact I’d like you to read aloud, please.”

 

She began to read, haltingly at first, but then with more confidence. As she did, Viktor lifted her dress up and rested it on her back before running the palm of his hand over her bare bottom and down her thighs. The story was about a woman who was being taken roughly by three men, and each time Natasha said something coarse or erotic, Viktor raised his hand and brought it down sharply on her behind. 

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